


Familiar's Mischief

by ChubbinLovin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Belly Kink, Body Expansion, F/M, Immobility, Rapid weight gain, Weight Gain, fat kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-26 15:53:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15666405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChubbinLovin/pseuds/ChubbinLovin
Summary: A series of kinky one-off's with my original characters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His master had told him a million times not to mess around in her study… maybe he should’ve listened to her.
> 
> Prompts: Rapid weight gain + a witch/familiar pair + fizzy “soda.”

It was a gray, drizzly morning. Perfect weather for Vincent's master to go out gathering ingredients… terrible weather for a feline familiar like himself. No matter what form he was in, on two legs or four, he absolutely hated the rain. Especially the thunder. He couldn't stand storms and Viola _knew_ it. She could be so cruel: having him cooped up, abandoned and left to his own devices. 

And he was bored… _so bored._

He’d been left in charge of “guarding” all of his master’s valuable spell books, potions, concoctions, and other artifacts she’d collected over time. The mere memory of her instructions made him roll his teal-green eyes; this was the 21st Century. Witches, as far as the general populace was concerned, weren’t even a thing anymore. Who did he have to guard her shit from, anyway?

As he paced around the modest flat, he passed by the door to her study, the primary location for all of her supernatural tinkering. It was there she worked on special orders for the few people who _did_  know about them and their kind. It was there she kept all her most important and valuable witch paraphernalia. He wasn’t allowed in there unattended... probably for good reason. She'd told him time and time again to keep out,  _especially_ when she was away. And yet...? 

Mischief twinkled in the slits of his pupils.

Maybe it was boredom, maybe spite, or maybe it was just morbid curiosity that propelled his hand towards the knob. He’d just take a peak. What harm could it do? His cat-like ears bobbed eagerly, his tail giving a little twitch of anticipation. Her words of warning were white noise at the back of his head, insisting the dangers of her volatile wares.

However, he was a cat, no matter how humanoid he appeared. Cats by nature are capricious and not always inclined to do as they’re told. (Nor were they prone to consider long-term consequences, or any kind of consequences at all.) Honestly, she should've known better than to expect any less than disobedience from him. In this particular case, his mischievous predisposition won out over all the enchantments she'd cast on him to bind them together. So he pushed the door open and slunk inside, his short fangs latching smugly onto his bottom lip.

He was immediately hit by a menagerie of smells, some floral and perfume-y, others bold and laced with a sweet spiciness, like cinnamon sugar. At first it was a little overwhelming, even nauseating, his sensitive nose assaulted by so many fragrances at once. Then he couldn’t help but zero in on one in particular, an aroma so enticing it made him salivate, his thin pupils dilating.

He traced the scent to a solitary flask sitting on his master’s work table. Judging by the number of measuring tools and stray ingredients lying around the glass container, it had been the project his master had been tampering with just before leaving to get more materials. It was another request of one of her “customers,” but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what it was the woman had specifically asked for. If he had, he might’ve thought twice about approaching it.

But he didn’t. Whatever it was, it smelled _delightful,_  and he was a bit of a glutton to begin with _._ The concoction had a soft, sweet smell, like molten caramel wafting in the air. Milky, salty, and sugary all at once. The mixture fizzed and frothed tantalizingly in its flask, its amber color reminiscent of whiskey or cream soda. Now he was sure it was spite that drove his actions; his master had left him all by himself on such a miserable day… it was only fair he get back at her, and what better way than meddling with her hard work?

He decided it served her right as he picked up the flask and guzzled down the commissioned concoction, feeling rather proud of himself after the last drop had disappeared. The texture was as bubbly and delightful as he’d expected, and it left his throat feeling warm and tingly before sloshing thickly into his belly. He shivered giddily at the fizzy, butterfly-feeling that immediately erupted in his stomach, his whole body suddenly feeling fuzzy all over.

In a matter of seconds, fuzzy turned to sluggish, and sluggish turned to bloated. He felt oddly full for the relatively small amount of fluid he’d taken in. His gut felt heavy and swollen, and it wasn’t until he glanced down to rub it and soothe away the sensation that he realized why.

His sleek t-shirt was stretching and expanding before his very eyes. At first he thought maybe it was just bloating from the strange mixture, but the soft, squishy texture insisted otherwise. It wasn't just his stomach either: his whole body was growing. Light, limber and cat-like was suddenly turning doughy and rounded. His breath hitched in a gasp, his hands gripping the flabby rolls of his stomach as they began to form; the fabric clothing him began to creak with the pressure of containing his bulk.

He could feel the legs of his jeans beginning to tighten, cutting into his thighs as they bloomed from wiry muscle to malleable fat. The material audibly groaned around the bulging flesh of his rear end, and he felt himself blush hotly at the tightness. As the waistband dug into the expanse of his love handles, he couldn’t help but whine a little, meek and pitiful. Even the taught, firm surface of his pectorals had given way to soft, putty-like breasts. By that point his shirt was stretched taught, the thick overhang of his belly dripping out over the button of his pants. Not that it lasted very long. With a shrill, drawn-out groan, the button gave way and his fly snapped apart, the fastening flying across the room.

Only when he heard the quiet popping of seams around his rapidly inflating ass did he realize he should probably do something about this. Not that he knew much _to_ do, but he figured he should at least escape the scene of the crime. Fuck, Viola would be furious. The soft ripping noises quickly crescendoed into shredding and tearing, the stiff fabric forced apart by the massive fat of his rear end and trunk-like thighs. He'd have to worry about his master's wrath later; he had bigger ( _much bigger_ ) problems to worry about right now.

It was a chore to waddle his way back towards the door, his whole body wobbling with even the slightest movement. His arms were thick and heavy, practically glued to the pear-shape of his body, and the gap between his thighs had long-since disappeared; the way they squished and molded together had him whimpering under his breath, friction and tension gathering in his crotch. By the time he did reach the doorway, his pants were in shreds, and he had little faith in his abilities to squeeze his way out.

And rightly so. The jiggly heft of his belly was hard enough to push through, but the love-seat width of his hindquarters made it entirely impossible. With a muffled _thunk_  and a wave of rippling flesh, his ass caught in the doorway with no hope of wriggling free. He grunted and huffed and panted, bracing his thick, pillowy arms against the doorframe and heaving with all his might, but it was no good. Worse yet, he was _still_  growing.

Now his gut was too big for him to even back out of the doorway, let alone continue forward. He was trapped, and still filling out more and more; growing fatter and fatter. His knees shook under his own weight now as his proportions continued to expand. Whatever space remained between his jaw and neck was now occupied by chubby flesh, forming a rounded double-chin. His shirt was stretched to its maximum, fistfuls of fat poking out of freshly-formed holes in the fabric. His arms and breasts continued to swell, his round, doughy body gurgling and groaning with its unnatural growth.

To his horror, the doorframe was feeling tighter and tighter around his middle-section, and he could've sworn he heard the sound of crumbling plaster. From behind, all that could be seen of him was the massive, jiggling mound of his… well. His _behind_. In the front, his belly was so heavy and massive that it was beginning to pool on the ground in front of him. His head was like a blushing, bright-red cherry atop a massive cupcake, dwarfed by the rest of his fatty form. Breathing heavily, he was still desperately trying to squirm his way out, no matter how futile it was.

He wasn’t sure if he should’ve felt relieved or terrified when he heard the door open and close from across the flat, his face burning hotly and feline ears perking as his master’s familiar steps approached. On the one hand, he was caught in the act of his petty shenanigans, and would no doubt be punished. (As if the humiliation wasn't punishment enough.) On the other, she could surely help him out of the trouble he’d created for himself.

That was, _if_ she was feeling generous. Which she normally wasn't.

When he finally saw her approach, he cast his gaze sheepishly sideways, worming around uncomfortably in the crumbling doorway. She gasped in surprise, her own eyes going wide at the sight of her once scrawny familiar having grown to a heaping mound of plush flesh. However, the gasp quickly turned to a haughty huff of annoyance. It didn't take her long to take in his state, put two and two together and realize what he'd done.

The potion he'd drank had been a hex, and more importantly, it wasn't finished yet. This was clearly a reaction to it, the idiot... At least by now his growth had slowed, ebbing gradually to a stop, but he was still very, very stuck. Honestly, she thought, he was more trouble than he was worth sometimes. _Most_ of the time, actually. “Ugh,” she grunted in disapproval, setting down her armful of groceries and ingredients before striding over and giving him a brief once over. “ _Now_ look what you’ve done…”

His burning cheeks bunched as he attempted to shrink in on himself, to no avail, his chins wobbling as he gave a futile squirm in his spot. “I-it was an accident,” he fibbed with a pitiful pout, avoiding her stern gaze.

“… So you _accidentally_  went into my study, knowing I've ordered you to stay out,” she began with a droll, deadpan look in her eyes, her hands resting on her hips now. “Then you  _accidentally_ drank one of my valuable potions? Right.” He avoided her gaze as she sighed and shook her head, poking experimentally at the roll of his chin and pinching it between her fingers. “Now I have to start all over again… my client'll be pissed to wait another week for her order, you know. _And_ I’ll have to fix this doorframe.”

Then she smirked, and he felt a shiver go through his heavily-padded body. Her fingers trailed down from his fat neck (or lack thereof) to cup one of his full breasts and tweak a needy, perked nipple. “Well… serves you right. Did you learn your lesson, you spoiled brat?”

He nodded with a meager whine, biting his lip as she kneaded the doughy flesh, none too shy to let her sharp, acrylic nails dig in roughly. “J-just turn me back,” he begged, his tail lashing anxiously behind him, not that she could've seen it.

“What kind of punishment would that be?” His stomach sank, and now she was grinning meanly. “No… I think I’ll leave you like this. At least until it wears off on its own.” She moved both her hands to press and bury into the thickest fold of fat, shaking it roughly so that his whole form jiggled like jell-o. He failed to repress a moan, only to clamp his mouth shut in embarrassment when she rolled her eyes. “I’ll shrink you down just long enough to get you out of my way… I have a lot of work to do, thanks to you.”

True to her word, she willed his shape to change to that of a flame-point siamese, his original form. When she’d first made him her familiar, he’d been a lanky little feline, and she seldom had him take on his animal form since. (He was much more of a nuisance as a cat than as a human, and twice as useless.) Now he was plump and round, his legs and dainty, ginger paws dwarfed by his rotund abdomen. She picked him up with no small struggle and carries the otherwise immobile cat to his bedroom; with all her might she heaved him onto the bed and, with a snap of her fingers, changed him back to his human form.

Bad idea. The bed immediately bowed and subsequently broke under his mass, his body landing thunderously on the ground and burying the bed’s remains. Clearly she’d underestimated just how fat her potion had made him grow. She flinched backwards in surprise and cursed her own lack of forethought; yet she smirked again in amusement. As irritated as she was to have yet another thing to repair, she felt quite satisfied with her punishment. 

“Serves you right,” she repeated smugly, making him whine helplessly as he fumbled on the ground. “Not much of a cat, now… just a big, fat, greedy pig.” He groaned with those insulting words, his breath heaving. “If you’re good, I’ll bring you some dinner later... not that you need it, at this rate. Until then, try not to break anything else.”

“A-as if I could,” he spat back meagerly; clearly he wasn’t going anywhere; he couldn't even roll over in this state.

“I dunno,” she taunted, prodding the pudgy pool of his belly with her boot-clad foot as he squirmed with the sensation. “Who knows how sturdy that floor is… that’d be quite the shock for our downstairs neighbors, wouldn't it?”

Ignoring his needy pleas and pitiful whines, she turned on her heel and left the room to tend to her work. Next time he was bored, he’d know better than to mess with her things.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent is relieved to have his old body back, only to figure out that Viola has other plans.

Over the next forty-eight hours, Vincent was relieved to find himself gradually shrinking. After a day he was no longer pinned on his back by his own weight, and after a day-and-a-half he could even stand. (Although it was clumsy at best.) However, by day three he was dismayed to find that he was still fairly chubby, never quite returning to his original, svelte shape.

 

He humbly requested that his master do something about this. Initially she refused, just as he'd expected. That didn't deter him from asking again. And again… and again. Whether Viola did so out of mercy or just thinning patience with his nagging, she finally relented. 

 

“Don't say I never did you any favors,” were her only words as she waved a hand in his direction, not even looking at him as the lavender aura of her magic drifted over him. She was far too busy catching up on days worth of lost work to pay him much mind. If this was what it took to get him off her back so she could finish her commission, so be it.

 

With a little groan or two, the remaining fat that clung to his shape tightened back into firm, taut skin. His tail gave a pleased waggle as he gave himself a quick once-over, then bounded over to Viola to swoop her up into a hug. She grunted in surprise, fumbling the vials in her hands to keep their contents from spilling. “Thank you thank you thank you!” he repeated as he nuzzled her hair and neck affectionately. She huffed dully in reply, unmoved by his doting.

 

It was subtle, but with this little overstep of boundaries  (as he was prone to repeat) Viola could feel the slightest give in the flesh of his arms, just a little bit if softness where muscle had once been. Her hex had worked, and as far as she could tell, Vincent was none the wiser. Smirking, she bit back her thoughts:  _ don't thank me just yet.  _ Instead, she merely demanded he put her down and get to his chores.

 

It was about time she implemented some obedience training, and a bit of poetic justice couldn't hurt either. She had a certain fondness for irony. In any case, with this little ploy of hers, she'd make sure he never,  _ ever _ forgot his embarrassing “little” blunder.

 

Several days passed before Vincent noticed anything amiss. Nonetheless, Viola’s hex was working just as she'd intended, and she certainly noticed its effects. Even the tiniest offense earned a little extra padding on her Familiar’s body, usually no more than a few pounds at a time. The bigger the trouble he caused, the more drastic the gain. 

 

Exiting a room without turning off the light resulted in a softening jawline and tiniest hint of a double chin. Napping on the job made his hips swell until little love handles formed, spilling over the waistband of his jeans. She wasn't so cruel as to leave out a bit of positive reinforcement, though. A job well done earned a bit of weight taken off. Unfortunately for him, his good deeds seemed heavily outweighed by his mischief.

 

Sure, he wasn't exactly the brightest feline around, but even after a week of this gradual, mysterious gain caught his attention. Mostly when attempting to button his snug-fitting pants, or having to perpetually tug his shirts down of his chubby, protruding belly. Still, he gave Viola no signs that he'd noticed, as if hoping she hadn't either. At least, he believed as much: normally she took any chance possible to tease or embarrass him, but had been oddly quiet the last few days. Probably because of how busy she was.

 

Then he committed one particular blunder that made his situation undeniable. While assisting Viola in her study, he got just a little too excited, and his lashing tail swiped out and took a number of beakers and flasks with it. The glass shattered loudly on the hardwood floor, the broken containers spilling their valuable contents.

 

**_Bwoomf!_ **

 

It happened in a split second. His belly surged outward, his ass doubled in size, and his quickly fattening thighs crumbled under his sudden weight. The sound of rending, shredding fabric joined that of the massive  _ thud  _ that resounded as he tumbled gracelessly to the ground. The floor practically shook with the impact, drawing Viola’s displeased attention. Displeased, but not entirely unamused.

 

In the same amount of time it took for his weight to double, his face lit up cherry red, his eyes bugging as he struggled to see around his fat stomach. “A-ah?” he grunted, his hands fisting into the folds of his belly. “Wh-what the hell?!” 

 

He looked desperately to Viola, only to find that she looked oddly nonchalant about the whole thing, putting her magic to work to clean up his mess. In fact, she was all but ignoring him. Under normal circumstances, he'd have been getting a strongly worded lecture by that point. Dull or not, he managed to put two and two together. “Wh-what’d you do to me? Why am I-? What happened?!”

 

She shrugged, but failed to hide her smug smirk. “Just a little something to keep you in line.” His expression blanched in confusion, so she continued. “It’s a simple punishment hex: you do something bad? You gain weight. Do something good and you’ll lose it. Easy. Although…” She came closer, crouching down so they were eye-to-eye. “As pudgy as you'd managed to get even before this, it seems you'll have to try awfully hard just to keep yourself from turning into a whale all over again.”

 

His chubby cheeks burned as he struggled and squirmed to his knees, then to his feet. His balance was poor, but at least he could stand. Barely. He couldn't even see the massive holes in his clothes, his girth creating blind spots at nearly every angle, but he could feel his flesh squeezing out at every opportunity. “You- you’re so mean,” he whimpered, kneading the lowest, thickest roll of his muffin top experimentally.

 

“Mean?” she snorted, gripping the same roll and giving it a rough shake, making his breath hitch in surprise. “Hardly. For all the trouble you cause me, it's about time you started paying for it. I plan to run a very,  _ very  _ tight ship from here on out.” Her eyes wandered downwards, shifting her position to steal a glance at his backside. “... Almost as tight as those pants, I’d say.”

 

He whined and shuddered under her intense gaze, biting his lip. As much as this punishment bruised his pride, he tried to find a bright side. Anything that made her touch him like that couldn't be all bad. It felt… strangely… good? Swallowing down the dryness of his mouth, he nodded his understanding, making his chins wobble meekly. “Okay, I get it… can you shrink me down then? I-... it’s only fair to give me a fresh start.”

 

With a wicked smile, she smacked the heft of his doughy gut. He winced, biting back a little mewl of… pleasure? Discomfort? He couldn't be sure. “I decide what's fair. You want to lose the weight? Earn it. Otherwise, you're stuck looking like the fat, spoiled pig you are.”

 

His thighs squeezed together, an undeniable shudder of excitement ricocheting through him. “Y-... yes, ma’am.”

 

“Good boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I definitely plan on doing more with these two, possibly doing an ask-blog? I have drawings of them on my tumblr (same username), if you feel like checking that out. You can ask Vincent and Viola questions or just ask me general stuff about the kinks and the lore for the story. Thanks for reading!


End file.
